


Someone Old, No One New

by Keepinthekidsalive



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: I tried to keep this as factual as possible, It’s all platonic - Freeform, No Smut, Post Hiatus, Pre hiatus, There’s technically more than just Pete and Patrick, Time Travel, With the time lines and little details that is, fall out boy - Freeform, first person POV, theres multiple Pete’s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepinthekidsalive/pseuds/Keepinthekidsalive
Summary: Pete suddenly finds himself abandoned in 1995 with no idea of how to get back. His only help being his sixteen year old “twin” who provides more arguments than assistance and a very young yet aggravated Patrick thrown into another one of his messes. As the number of Petes slowly grows he finds himself facing the problem head on in order to find his way back to the present.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second fic and I just couldn’t get the idea of it out of my head. Maybe it’s been done before, but hey, there’s gotta be something different about this one right?

I was fucked. Patrick was going to be so pissed off and he’ll let me know it too. I really don’t want to hear that argument and god knows Joe will take his side. He won’t do that because he supports Patrick’s frustration, no, he’ll do it just to instigate shit for the hell of it. 

This Uber didn't seem to be going fast enough despite the blurred faces hidden behind flashing headlights disappearing from sight within seconds. The car comes to a stop and I hold back on telling the driver to speed up only because it's not his fault. Traffic is of course sluggish running through the city as the night takes over. 

We were all supposed to meet up at Patrick’s place and go grab something to eat. He had to show everyone something that was apparently too important to just text. I'm guessing he finished something, but it would be too strange for him not to tell anyone. Even if he wanted to, he's not the type to keep an entire song a secret without telling one of us the intricacies of the sound. He just can’t keep it to himself when it comes to music.

We would have all been notified of any nominations for an award, so I can rule that one out too. Could he have had any side projects I didn't know about? A movie he was scoring or an animation he lended his voice for? I feel like he would have told me or at the very least hinted about it. He was always better at keeping secrets than me though.

The taxi dips down into a tunnel illuminated only by the passing cars and the yellow lights drilled into the walls. I’ve never been this way before and I’m sure I would have remembered a tunnel like this. There’s something about it that pushes at that part of my brain telling me this isn’t right, but at the same time I can’t help but stare. The white tiles lining the wall grab my attention as my eyes work on following the small brick pattern. It’s no different from any other tiled floor or wall, but I can’t tear myself away from following it. My mind fogs and my head dips from what I assume is just sleep deprivation.

My forehead lightly taps the window and I correct myself, but as I look back up I’m met with crowding trees and a sudden warmth to my skin as sunlight bleeds through the glass. I blink at the bizarrely sunny weather and look for my phone to explain what the fuck just happened. I tap it a few times, but all I’m met with is a black screen. Fuck, how did it die? It was literally just working and it’s not even that old. Fucking tech companies are practically robbing me.

I look back up when the car stops and panic a little inside when the driver is gone as well. It’s not exactly fear, more of confusion as to why and how that just happened. Am I being punked again? No that show’s been gone for a while now. Some new magician show I haven’t seen? Either way this isn’t getting me any closer to Patrick and I’m already running late. 

Yeah that driver is not going to be getting a good rating when I get my phone charged back up. I slowly get out to look around and see if he’s anywhere around the car. Did he hit something? Flat tire? I look to the hood to see if he’s checking the engine, but he isn’t there either. 

Where the hell did he go? And where did he drop me off? This is an all too familiar street though and as I look around I start to connect the growing houses until it leads me to the driveway of the one place I’ve been desperately missing lately. I hear a kid shout as a soccer ball goes bounding by and into the brick road. 

I pick up my pace as the kid suddenly appears and chases after the rogue ball about twenty feet away from me. The short curls, the blue sweater, outdated sneakers that have seen better days. Was that... me? 

“You kicked it all the way in the road, Peter!” The kid yells, oh good, it’s not me. Of course it’s not. Jesus, Pete, get a hold of yourself. Wait a minute...

When he turns holding the ball it makes my legs freeze and arms tighten. That’s not me but... Andrew? Is that my fucking little brother? It can’t be, that’s ridiculous. The sweater though... that was mine and then I gave it to him and-

“Hurry up, dude!” I hear another boy yell from up by the house. Fuck that’s my house! That’s _the_ house. My parent’s house, the _family’s_ house. How the hell... and the boy up there. Did I just hear my own voice? 

It’s beyond seeing myself speak in an interview or fan video. It’s too real. Too personal. It may be a little higher and somehow scratchier, but that was me. That tone, the snotty little teenage shout like I don’t have time to wait for anyone or anything. I squint in an attempt to see if it’s really true, but I left my goddamn contacts at home. Wherever that is.

Andrew runs by, but I can tell that the boy in the yard is looking at me. I walk up a bit closer before he finally speaks up again.

“What?” That voice again, is it really me?  
“Are you Pete? Pete Wentz?”  
“Yeah... why?” I can clearly see the grimace planted on his face now.  
“Well... I’m also Pete.”  
“Good for you buddy,” He drawls out slowly. “Andrew get inside.” He quickly orders with a tap to the kid’s shoulder who goes bounding up the stairs to the door.

“Wait, no I mean I’m you! From like... the future.” I try to explain, but I’m only met with that familiar sneer that I can practically feel myself making.  
“Right and I’m Marty McFly.”  
“Seriously? We’re the same person, we obviously look alike!”  
“Not really... look at your hair dude.” He gestures to my head with a smirk.  
“Yeah I straightened it, my natural hair isn’t exactly appreciated where I’m from and is kinda annoying to deal with anyway.”

“Well it looks fuckin’ weird.”  
“Look at _your_ hair! It’s barely even dreads, just a knotted mess.” I counter, but am I seriously arguing with this kid? _Myself._  
“Fuck you! They’re going to be dreads, they just haven’t locked up yet.” As he yells this I notice something shine in his teeth.  
“Oh shit, you’ve got braces. I forgot about those. How old are you? Fifteen?”  
“Sixteen and I get them off soon alright? Now get outta here, fuckin’ psycho.” He attempts to walk off, but I stop him and grab his wrist lightly which of course results in a scoff and a violent tug away as if I just tased him.

“Come on you have to admit we at least look similar.” I gesture to my face and down my body.  
“Maybe, but what the hell are you wearing?”

I look down to my oversized yellow hoodie and loose black sweatpants. My eyes trail back up to him with a defiant look of disgust to match his.

“What? It’s comfortable and besides you think you’re so much better with your- holy shit are those purple jnco shorts?” I laugh before continuing as a scowl continues to rest on his face. “And your... okay that’s actually a pretty cool Metallica tank top. I wonder where that went...” I trail off, but he still looks unconvinced.

“Am I really this stubborn?” I cross my arms. “I would’ve thought it’d take a lot less time to convince young me of something like this.”  
“Then how’d you get here? Let me guess... a time machine? DeLorean?” I can practically taste the mocking tone he spits out.  
“No... I don’t know how, to be completely honest.” I shrug as he crosses his arms to match mine.  
“Well isn’t that convenient.” 

I sigh and try to think of any way I could prove this to him. I remember all the time traveling movies and what those characters did, but I think I just accidentally broke one of the most important rules. I’m not supposed to talk to my past self. Doesn’t that like set off some weird butterfly effect? Fuck did I just mess up all of time? Well I suppose it’s too late now, if anything life altering were to happen then I guess it would have already. I can’t go so far as to tell him what happens in the future though, I want it all to be a surprise like I had experienced.

“Alright then explain to me how I know you play soccer.”  
“I was literally just playing it with my brother.”  
“Yeah, but I know you’re pretty good at it, at least that’s what other people say. Let’s see... you’re sixteen, so at this point you wanna go pro with it or do some shit with fireworks right? You’re also playing the bass and messing around with some bands.” I rub my forehead, willing my memory to cooperate. “If you go to college you wanna play soccer there right?”

I notice his grip on his sleeve tighten slightly as his look softens.  
“Your parents made you take piano lessons, but you never picked up on it all that well. You can’t seem to put down the bass though. You play mostly in the basement, the same basement with the bolted window because your parents kept catching you sneak out of it.” My smirk grows as he looks up to me with eyes blinking in shock and pursed lips, realization slowly growing with each word.

“The windows aren’t bolted right now.”  
“Oh really?” I laugh and he actually joins me. “You little fucker, you must’ve picked the screws out. But anyway, how would just some stalker know all that?”  
“You know my parents or something?”  
“No, well yes, but not as friends... and what about this?” I turn around and lift up my sweatshirt to show the back tattoo that he should have as well. “Oh! And this.” I roll up my pant leg to show the small faded x he should also have permanently scratched into his ankle.

I look back up to him and he doesn’t move his eyes from where they were. He must be flashing through more possible contradictions, but what more can he ask for? That’s as much proof as he should need.

“Now how would I have the exact same tattoos as you? Mom and dad haven’t even seen them yet and I know you’re only sixteen, but trust me. Do you really wanna go to some school?” I ask and there’s a silent pause as he mulls it over. I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it.

“Not really, but I have to. On this street every kid goes to college.”  
“Yeah you won’t know what you wanna do for a while, but that’s alright.”  
“Well, do we turn out okay?”  
“All I can say is that you’ll be pretty happy with your life eventually, but everything has to happen exactly how it did to get you there. Even... the bad times.” I say a little more quietly than I mean to.

“So, you’re telling me that I somehow traveled to the past by accident?”  
“Yeah... yeah I guess so.”  
“Wait! Am I like your Sarah Connor?”  
“I’m pretty sure I’m not the Terminator.” I chuckle and imagine what that would actually be like.

“But why are you here then? There’s gotta be some reason. Wait do we end up like destroying the world or some shit?”  
“Not that I’m aware of, but I really don’t know why I’m here. I need to get back though, we’ve gotta... thing in two days.”  
“Thing?”

A concert, we’ve got a damn concert. It’s a fucking charity one too and we don’t get to do many of those anymore, so I can’t miss it or I’ll look like a world class asshole. And it’s not like I can tell him any of this; everything needs to happen exactly how it did. Those nights full of doubt where I nearly threw my bass out the window thinking it was all worthless. I needed those miserable gigs of performing to only five or less people. I can’t let this kid get all cocky thinking it’s inevitable. I had already come off as a bit conceited to a lot of people through our trail to fame. I can’t have him starting this early on. 

“It’s just this family thing, I can’t miss it.”  
“Do we have kids!?” He asks with raised eyebrows, unclipped and a little wild I notice.  
“I’m not telling you anything about the future, alright? I’ve already told you too much. I’m probably not even supposed to be talking to you, but it’s too late for that.”  
“Exactly, so you might as well tell me.”  
“No, Pete... okay I don’t like saying that.”

He needs a new name, that felt horrible coming out of my mouth. Sure maybe I could tolerate it if he just happened to be some random kid with the same name. With him actually being me I just can’t do it. 

“I gotta call you something else. Having the same name and being... you know, _you_. I just can’t do it.”  
“Can I be... Dan?”  
“Why the hell would you wanna be Dan?”  
“Dan Vapid, the bassist in Screeching Weasels, well sometimes he’s the guitarist and-“  
“Yeah I know who he is and no you’re not going to be Dan Vapid.” 

I smile at his sudden excitement that I remember feeling anytime the topic of music was brought up and we begin walking down the sidewalk. I honestly just don’t want mom or dad to come out and start wondering why a grown man who looks oddly like their son is talking to him. 

 

“Alright, what about James?”  
“James who? And I swear to god if you say Bond.”  
“No the lead singer in Metallica! Or no wait, how about Luke Sky-“  
“No.”  
“Billie Joe-“  
“How about Lewis, yeah you can be Lewis.”

He attempts to argue further, but I wave him off each time.  
“My name’s not fucking Lewis!”  
“Yeah sure, _Lewis._ ”  
“Fuck you!”  
“Hey, watch your language Lewis!”  
“Oh yeah right, like I’m gonna take that shit from you.”

Is this what having a teenage son is going to be like? He rattles off a few more names and I just put them down with adding a quick little “Lewis” at the end of each sentence. I can tell he finds this humorous despite the constant glare plastered to his face.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad, it’s in our name anyway.”  
“Yeah, but that’s not even my middle name. That’s mom’s last name, what does it have to do with me?”  
“Doesn’t matter, you’re going to deal with it for now. I’m not calling you Pete and Peter is too close. You can go back to your first name when we figure out how I can get outta here.”

“I don’t need to do shit, this is your problem.” Lewis suddenly stops and crosses his arms in defiance.  
“Uh no, this is _our_ problem. Anything that’s wrong with me drags you along with it. We’re the same person remember?” I turn to look at him with a raised brow. “Or did that little fact slip your mind?”  
“So, how’re we gonna do it then Boy Wonder? We just walk around hoping you trip into reality?”

That part I haven’t quite figured out yet, so I’m not really sure how to answer that one. The only thing I could maybe guess is that I need to find that car and my memory of this place has kind of stalled out. I can map out my block in my head and the area around the schools, even a few of the clubs and restaurants. Everything around those places is a mystery and I need this little brat to guide me. With this being his present I’m sure he knows more than me. 

“Well, first of all, I’m definitely Batman in this situation and you’re Boy Wonder, so let’s get that part straight right now.”  
“Whatever.”  
“And anyway, I need to find this car and I’m guessing it doesn’t look like any of the ones around here.” I offer up and look down the street.  
“If you needed a ride, I probably could’ve gotten someone to drive you.”  
“No, I need the car I came in. Maybe if I find it I can get back to where I need to be.”  
“Well where’d you park it?”  
“I wasn’t driving, I don’t know where the driver went. When it stopped he was gone and I got out...”

I look down the street in the direction we’d came. Fuck I don’t see it down there, it would be pretty far, but I should still be able to see it. I grab Lewis’s shoulder and guide him back in that direction.

“Where are we going?”  
“The car I came in was parked down there. It wasn’t far from the house, but I don’t see it.”  
“What if it’s invisible! They have that in the future right?”  
“Uh... no not really. There’s pretty silent cars though.”  
“Well what about like hover boards?”  
“Sort of, but they don’t fly.”  
“Then what’s the poi-“  
“Come on.”

I cut him off and start jogging because Jesus Christ I can’t hear anymore of these questions. I get that he’s curious and I would be too, but I don’t want to ruin his vision of the future. He may not be a little kid, but I know his imagination is still buzzing and I’d like to keep it that way.

We reach the spot where the car was and just to be sure, I wave my hand where it should be. I mean I just traveled decades into the future, an invisible car isn’t so far fetched. Lewis starts timidly poking his foot around the curb and proceeds to stomp around the street. I walk up and down the side of the curb waving my arms in front of me in an attempt to check the general area. We must look like a pair of lunatics because I spot one of the neighbors staring from his porch.

The old man retreats into his house when I lock eyes with him as if my insanity is contagious. I stop and look over to see Lewis gallivanting around the street like he’s trying to capture some ghost dog. I calmly walk over and grab his arm, effectively dragging him back to the sidewalk. 

“Come on, it’s obviously not here.”  
We walk down the street and look around like tourists in search of the car.  
“What does it look like?”  
“It was black and like, slick. Trust me, it doesn’t look like cars from this year. You’ll know it when you see it.”  
“But this’ll take forever on foot! I mean, props to you for having to wear those pants and jacket, but Jesus Christ is it hot.”

I ignore his complaints and keep walking. It’s obviously the summer and for Wilmette this is pretty hot. We don’t even make it two blocks before I strip off my hoodie. Way too hot for this heavy thing and I’m honestly wishing I was wearing the tank top and shorts Lewis has on. Even if they are purple denim, it’s gotta be better than the sweats I’ve got on. 

We make it to a busy street lined with storefronts and cafes that look vaguely familiar. I retreat into one to escape the heat and get a drink with Lewis in tow. I’ve gotta say, it’s nice having no one know your name. The theme song to Cheers runs through my head as the little bell rings to signal our entry. The brief glances I get from the staff is relieving. Don’t get me wrong, I love fans and hearing their stories, but flashing lights and stalking paparazzi gets a little stale. 

“You know I’ve got no money right?”  
“I’ll get it don’t worry.” I reassure him and make sure my wallet is still with me and thank god it is. I suppose I could’ve just pulled out my ID when first meeting Lewis, but I can already hear him claiming it’s fake since it’s exactly what I would say. 

“Oh, you look just like your father there don’t you?” A small voice pipes up from behind us. Lewis barely turns back to look at the old women as he leans on the counter.  
“He’s not my dad.” He replies flatly.  
“Oh?”  
“He’s my Uncle... _Lewis_.” He looks up to me with a smirk tickling his lips.  
“Seriously?” I ask and this women must be wholeheartedly confused as she looks between us.

“Well he must be one of your parents’ twin because it’s uncanny.”  
“Told you.” This time it’s my turn to wear the grin as Lewis rolls his eyes.  
He mutters something, but I can’t make it out. Most likely a vapid “whatever” or “get real” as I would’ve replied at his age.

It’s finally our turn to order as the man ahead of us balances his tower of coffees.  
“Yeah, I’ll just get a water.” I order and look to the kid who’s once again smirking.  
“I wanna Coke and can I get some fries Uncle Lewis?” He looks up to me with those begging eyes like some five year old, but I’m not about to give into this kid’s act.  
“No, just a Coke.” I look to the waiting cashier with a shake my head.  
“Please, I haven’t eaten since Tuesday and I’m really hungry.” Lewis mutters, looking overly disappointed.

This fucking kid. I sigh as the old women behind us gasps lightly and the surrounding patrons look up from their meals. The cashier makes a face of disgust at me as I turn back to her.

“Yeah fine just... get the kid some fries Jesus Christ. You’re too much.” I look down to him and he snickers under his hand.  
“I’m sorry, Uncle Lewis.” He pouts and looks back down to the counter. He’s not even a good actor, how are these people possibly falling for this shit?

I hand over the money and find a table next to the window as far away from any customers as possible. Everyone in here appears to be shooting me daggers and I can’t blame them. The kid was a little shit starter, but a smart one at least.

“So, Uncle Lewis,” He slides into the booth across from me happily.  
“Don’t fucking start.”  
“Alright alright, take it easy. What, was the extra ten cents too much for you?”  
“I was actually surprised, I forgot how cheap things are now.”  
“Why how much would that cost in the future?”  
“Well, the water would probably be free, but the coke and fries would be around two or three dollars.”

I laugh at his shocked look and we continue talking about small things from the future. I refuse to answer any questions about our life, so he sticks to stupid little things like prices and whether or not the movies from here still hold up. Just as I’m reassuring him that they do we’re suddenly interrupted by the old lady from before.

“Here you go hun,” She says to Lewis as he’s handed a wrapped cookie.  
“Oh thank you so much!”  
“I figured you’d appreciate it.” She replies a little sourly and looks in my direction before walking off.

Lewis triumphantly opens the cookie while making full eye contact with me. Smug little shit.

I shake my head and get up to go get our food that was just called. At this rate I’m two seconds from just dumping his fries and drink in the trash and walking out with my water, but that wouldn’t help with the current crowd already hating me. Plus, I still need him to keep me from getting lost in this place that somehow remains both foreign and familiar and a visit from DCF would be pretty confusing for both parties.

I sit back across from him as he finishes the cookie and swipes at his fries. Just as I take a sip from my water I see a flash of black in the reflection of the window. I look to where it could be coming from and spot the car. It seems to stick out among the usual ancient Buicks and clunky Fords. What is that... a Honda Accord? Yeah I doubt even the rich families around here are driving around in the literal future.

I jump up and run to the door with Lewis coughing up his drink.  
“There it is!” I call back and bolt out of the door to follow it. 

I can still see it as it halts at a red light, but it’s still pretty far. It’s in the turn only lane, so I keep to the sidewalk to cut it off. Lewis is already coming up beside me and fuck I need to run more. I mean I jog around stage and go for walks with the boys, but it’s obviously not enough to catch up to a sixteen year old. I mean he does play soccer, but I figured being the same person would give me a slight advantage. 

We sprint past the car as the light switches to green and jump in the street as it turns. All I see is the pavement flash to my side and Lewis’s black shirt block the rest of my vision. 

I jolt upright heaving for air and clutching the grass. Grass. Why the hell is there grass? I twist my head around to see where I could possibly be where there’s soil, but everything’s too dark and the pain in my side is a bit distracting. My eyes adjust and I make out a thin body rolling over with a groan about ten feet away.

“What the... what the fuck?” Lewis coughs out, clutching his stomach.  
The heavy thrum of pain in my hip and forehead slowly subsides as I rest on one arm. I’m on the side of some parking lot in the grass with Lewis laying on the pavement. I look past him and see the big yellow lettering of a Best Buy. It’s obviously closed with it being so late, but the towering letters are clearly visible. The lot’s empty except for one lonesome car toward the back.


	2. Chapter 2

I get up once the pain is just a dull soreness like the aftershock of a cramp. Lewis sits up and I grab his hand to help him to his feet. He brushes off his palms and squints at the sudden darkness that seems to have engulfed us. 

“What the hell just happened?” He looks up to me with concern building in his eyes.  
“Not sure... I think we got hit by that car though.”  
“Yeah feels like it.”  
“You know this place?”  
“No, but damn that’s a really big Best Buy.”

I look around for any clues as to where we are or how we got here. It’s just like riding in the car before, once I was fine in my own time and then suddenly I was thrown into the past. A little less violently though.

“Maybe we can ask that guy.” Lewis suggests as he looks to the illuminated car. It’s the only source of light aside from the street light behind us, dousing the deserted road in crimson. I begin walking over and as we get closer I start to make out the music seeping through the cracks in the car door. Was that... Hallelujah? 

My mind begins piecing together the scene and although I can barely make out the man sitting in the driver’s seat, I can already tell what I’m walking into. 

Suddenly the surrounding noise, sneakers kicking gravel, shuddered breaths, fabric wrinkling, it all begins to fade. The only sound running through my head being the crooked strum of that guitar. Jeff Buckley’s voice shaking and growing louder as I take a step closer. The looming voice of tragedy dulling all of my senses as the lyrics take over my emotions. 

My feet grow heavy and my heart feels like it might just detach itself and finally retire from its battered commission. My fingers buzz with just the thought of touching the cool metal of the door handle. Tears swell from behind my eyes and threaten to fall before I finally give in to them. All of my energy being exerted with simply walking and attempting to keep my breathing even.

“Lewis get back.” I order firmly.  
“Why?” His voice sounding slightly muffled past the deafening song pounding on my eardrums.  
“Just... just stop. Don’t go near that fucking car.”  
“But why can’t I just-“

The car window opens just a crack and I walk up to it. His eyes are the first thing I notice. Heavy bags trace them like lingering bruises with irritated veins littering any sign of white. His skin slick with sweat and hair sticking to his forehead like he’d just come out of the shower. He coughs before speaking and I hear the shake of a pill bottle in his lap.

“Hey, you mind... you mind getting outta here?” The man’s voice groggily shakes out.  
“Don’t do this, alright?” I reply and rest my hand on the car.  
“What? You don’t kno-“  
“Pete who’s that?” Lewis speaks up from behind me.

“Wait... Jesus I haven’t even taken that many and I’m already seeing shit.” The guy sits back in his seat and rubs his face.  
“You’re not seeing anything, okay? I can explain this just like I did to him if you just open the door.”

I don’t get an answer, but the window does lower a bit more.  
“Look, if there was ever a sign not to do this it seems like this would be it.” I throw out.  
“Are you...”  
“You? Yeah, Pete, I am and so is he.” I lean back and make a gesture to Lewis. “Recognize that little hell-raiser?”  
“Holy shit,” He looks over to Lewis vaguely waving. “Pills must be kickin in.”

His eyelids droop and I snake my arm in to unlock the door. He nearly falls out, but I catch him and rest his body onto the ground. The pill bottle falls out with him and I swat his hand away as it weakly attempts to grab it. 

“No, Pete! No! Hey,” I lightly tap at his cheek and he groans. “How many? How many did you take?”  
“Four now fuck-fuck off... I gotta-“ The pill bottle shakes and I kneel beside him to grab his hand.  
“No you don’t, alright? Don’t fucking do this trust me, it gets so much better.”  
“Yeah r-right, I can’t do this shit and-“  
“You end up living anyway, so what’s the point in torturing yourself any further?”  
“What’re you talking about?”

“The Ativan, it’s not enough. You wanna spend the next week puking your brains out and feeling like absolute shit in a hospital gown?” I kneel beside his shaking frame as he looks up to me in that same disbelief as Lewis had experienced.

“Think about how mom will feel when she gets the call. Her face in the waiting room as they pump your stomach.”  
“You don’t fuckin know me. You’re-you’re not even real. I can’t be... _this_ anymore.” He chokes out with tears rolling down to the cracked pavement and gestures to himself weakly.  
“Lewis come here.” I nod over to him and he joins me. “Hold his legs.” 

His head bobs to the side and I grip his chin to right it. I bite my lip before opening his mouth and shoving two fingers inside. He coughs and flails, but I keep my weight firmly on his chest. Lewis curses under his breath as he kicks out and fights against his grip. His hand reaches up and grips the neck of my shirt while the other attempts to punch me.

With one last wet cough he finally lurches up and I let go of him quickly. He spits up phlegm and croaks out some incomprehensible insult, but it’s not enough. I really don’t want to have to put my fingers back in there, but I guess it is technically my mouth. Just the wet feel of the flicking tongue and heated breath isn’t exactly the best feeling no matter who it is when you’ve got the possibility of vomit spraying up your wrist.

I put them back and hit his uvula almost immediately and his chest shoots up, but I keep it down again with my forearm. His eyes shoot up to mine as he barks up another cough. I take my hand out again as he finally hacks up something more solid. I wipe off my hand and lean back with Lewis behind me.

He twists his body away and throws up again and I have to look away because that shit is a horrid sight. I can deal with a lot and I’ve seen dozens of people puke, but I don’t need to see myself do it too. Lewis joins my gaze with the suddenly interesting car tire while wet wheezes trail behind us. 

I look back once the noises quiet down a bit and see his body tremor as he breaths into the ground shakily. The smell is absolutely putrid so I get up, satisfied enough and not wanting my hands anywhere near him again. Certainly not in his mouth. 

My legs tremble slightly, but not as much as his that’s for sure. His body must be in shock as he stares at the ground spitting out any leftover taste. I feel Lewis’s hand on my back and step toward the quivering body stretched out below us. 

“You get all of it?” I ask and kneel back down beside him.  
“Fu... fuck you. How...” He gasps.  
“I don’t know why I’m here or why he’s with me and I don’t know how, just let me help you for now, okay? I’ll answer whatever you want as long as we can get you out of here.”  
“No, I can’t- I need this... _they_ need this.”  
“Trust me on this one, they really don’t. If you do, you’ll be missing out on a lot.”  
“I don’t care.”  
“Well I do and so do my _kids,_ so we’re going to get you up and off your ass, alright?” I reply sternly and nudge at his shoulder to get up.

He lightly nods with a furrowed brow and I put my hand under his arm to give him some leverage. Lewis comes over to help, but just ends up awkwardly standing there as this Pete grabs for the car instead. 

“I-I got it.” He insists and gets to his feet. I keep him upright as he trips over his oversized sneakers. I open up the back door and step away with some stains I’d rather not think about. “I’m not... this is my car. I’m not sitting in the fucking back.”  
“Just sit,” I start with that calm yet commanding tone I’ve used on the dog before, but he cuts me off with some dazed rambling.

God he’s so out of it. _I’m_ so out of it. He might as well be drunk as I cling to his shaking body that nearly falls over again. I really don’t want to see this and I can’t imagine what must be going through Lewis’s mind. To see this as his future at some point. The pathetic and selfish waste of a man tripping on his last legs. This is what being in your twenties is, kid. Get used to it, god knows I did. 

I’m finally able to get all of his loose limbs into the car as he sits back and closes his eyes again. I tap his cheek and he winces with a whine. I’m certainly not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure he threw up enough to be alright. I need to keep him from doing anything like that again. I’m pretty sure there was only the one pill bottle that’s currently resting beneath the car right now, but I can’t be certain. I hardly remember anything from that night now, let alone a loose bottle under the seat or in the back somewhere.

“Lewis get in the back, I need you to keep an eye on him.”  
“But what if he throws up on me?”  
“Well technically it’s our vomit, so suck it up because we need to get him some water.”

I hear an annoyed groan as his lip raises as if it’s attached to a string. So, that’s where that look started. Lewis finally gives in and climbs into the back as I shut my door. I don’t know what I’m even going to do. I can’t really take him to the hospital when we all are the exact same person. Sure they might believe we’re just brothers, but I bet I’d have to sign something at some point and I’d rather not lie on a medical document. 

“I think he got punched in the eye, like both of them.” Lewis takes note of as he studies the passed out man.  
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I look back and squint in the low light to see. “Oh no, that’s just eyeliner.”  
“I wear... I wear eyeliner in the future?”  
“Yeah for a while actually, it’s a whole thing.”

I start the car and get out of the parking lot, driving to the only place that might be able to help.  
“Where are we going?” Lewis pipes up after a few minutes of silence with the only noise being the sick boy’s shuddered breaths.  
“A friend that you don’t know yet. He’s probably like... eleven? Maybe twelve in your time.”  
“So wait, am I older than him or younger?”  
“Holy shit... younger I guess.” The laugh feels forced in such a serious moment, but I let it out nonetheless. “Only time I’ve ever been younger than him.”

We drive in silence as the familiar streets guide me to the one person who might be able to drag this guy out of this daze and not freak him out as much as seeing two of himself. As much as I’d like to, my mom would probably have a heart attack with seeing her son suddenly younger and older like some even more twisted holy trinity.

Not only would she be witnessing both The Father and Holy Ghost dragging in her babbling, drug-induced Son, she’d also have to deal with the fact as to how he got like this. She was already broken hearted enough the first time and I don’t want to have to relive that moment. Especially with being able to fully see the disappointment falling over her face and panicked eyes trying to figure out the next course of action. At least I had the drugs to scramble my senses the first go-around and fog my memory enough to forget that look.

Dropping him off on her doorstep would just be cruel. Hell, lighting a fire cracker in her mailbox is more merciful than that. My manager would just end up calling her as I had come to find out the first go-around, so I’ve only got one option. I pull up to the driveway and park as close as I can to the gate lining the garage entrance to make this easier with Mr. Unconscious back there. I don’t remember what apartment he’s in, but this will all be for nothing if he’s not even living here right now.

“This place is pretty big.” Lewis mumbles as he leans over the past out Pete to look through the window.  
“Yeah, it’s nice, I just hope he’s here. Look for a phone on him.” I nod back.  
“A phone? How the hell would he have a phone on him? He doesn’t have a bag, dude.” He replies slyly like that was the most idiotic question I could ask right now.

I shake my head and get out of the car to go get it myself. This kid is going to be amazed when I take out whatever mode of phone I had back... now. I open up the back door and check his pockets to retrieve the slick blackberry. I wave it at Lewis who almost looks mad that I was able to find one to prove him wrong. 

I look down at it and squint at the tiny buttons. Fuck no touch screen and no Siri to ask for help. I punch in the number and order Lewis to check the gate leading to the parking garage below to see if it’s locked. I’m finally able to figure it out and watch Lewis return with a shaking head as it begins ringing.

I hear a cough on the other end when it picks up and a muffled reply somewhere between a whine and confused greeting. I put a hand up when Lewis tries to say something to which he decides a stubby middle finger waved in my face is the appropriate answer.

“Hey, bud...”  
“Pete? Why are you- do you even know what time it is?”  
“Yeah, it’s like what?” I turn to look at Lewis leaning on the car as if he can hear the conversation. “One thirty? Two?”  
“No, I wasn’t actually asking! I’m saying it’s way too late to call, but by now I should just expect this right?”  
“Exactly, anyway you’re still at your apartment in LA right?” I ignore his annoyance and march on through this phone call in hopes to just get inside.  
“Mmhm” He groggily replies.

“I need you to let me in, it’s an actual like, emergency.”  
“I swear if this is some joke,”  
“It’s not I promise! This is actually serious.”  
“If you piss on me-“  
“This isn’t some prank or anything I’m not like that anymore.”  
“You pissed on Joe’s carpet like a week ago!”  
“Or... no that’s not what I meant. Look you’ll understand when you come outside. You don’t even have to open the gate since I’m right here. You just need to see and then I’ll try to explain.” Fuck I need to watch what I say and not slip up like that again.  
“Try?”  
“Just, please! I don’t know where else to go.”

I hear a mumbled fine before he adds.  
“You sound off, dude, is everything alright?”  
“Not exactly.” I reply and listen intently to the shuffling of movement on the other side.  
“Are you sick or something? Your voice just sounds, like, rougher or scratchier.”  
“Yeah, it’s called aging.”  
“What?”  
“You’ll get it when you see, okay?” I sigh and drum my fingers on the car’s roof absentmindedly.  
“You’re kinda freaking me out, Pete.”  
“Yeah well I’m a little freaked out myself.”

The noise cuts off and I see the garage lights flick on as he turns the corner. Fuck I forgot how small he was “nowadays”. His shaggy hair jutting out wildly in different directions with the sign of bedhead. All he has is a baggy T-shirt with some record store logo, sweat pants, and bare feet. 

I lean back on the car with Lewis on the other side of the open door with the passed out Pete leaning toward the opening. The scene illuminated with the light shining through the gate as the man on the other side rubs his eyes, willing them to adjust to the sudden brightness. He’s holding some button, probably from his car, to open the gate, but stops when he looks up to us.

His eyes squint and he fumbles with his glasses with his free hand and puts them on with taut eyebrows. He strains his neck slightly as he gets closer to the bars.

“Wait, I’m seeing like,”  
“Three of us?”  
“Pete... what did you do?” He draws out slowly and backs up two steps.  
“I-I’m not sure, but I really need your help.”

He just shakes his head and starts to back up more, almost tripping over his feet. The gate still remains unmoving as I take a step forward with one hand out. I feel like I’m coaxing out some stray dog as his eyes slightly widen and he continues to step back again. His mouth opens and closes with missing words sliding in and out like trembling breaths. 

“Please, Patrick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that was although sad, still introduced Patrick into the mix, so it’s not all that bad. Hope you guys enjoyed it, see you next Sunday!


	3. Chapter 3

“What the fuck is this?” Patrick sounds more desperate than annoyed as he looks from Me, to Lewis, and then stops at the Pete that slowly slides out of the car, but I catch him and carefully lean him back up. “Wh-What’s wrong with him?”  
“He tried... he took too many pills and-“ I start, but Patrick quickly cuts me off.  
“He od’d?” His eyes flash between us.  
“Yeah, but we got him to throw up right after. He’s just a little out of it and... keeps falling asleep.”

Patrick jams his thumb onto the button and rushes through the slowly opening gate.  
“Well, why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”  
“I figured two of the same person couldn’t just check him in.”  
“That’s another thing!” Patrick snaps and looks up from trying to fix the limp man’s shirt who garbles something out. “How the... how the fuck is this possible?!”

This is going to take a while and I seriously hope he doesn’t ask as many questions as Lewis, but knowing Patrick I’m sure he will with a few added on. The difference being that his questions actually make sense. They’re less about dead band members and new movies and more centered around the reality of this actually being able to happen.

“So, you and your teenage self were hit by a car, the same car that got you to 1995,” Patrick recaps to which Lewis and I nod in unison. “and now you’re in 2005 with no reason as to how or why?”  
“Yeah pretty much.” I reply.  
“Yep” Lewis adds on with a final nod.

Patrick takes his glasses off briefly and rubs his eyes in thought.  
“I already had one to deal with... now I’ve got three. Oh my god.” He mumbles to himself.  
“Who is this guy?” Lewis whispers in my ear.  
“Patrick, you meet him later.”

I’ll probably have to point out that he’s the singer in our band pretty soon, but I’ll save that one for later. If I’m lucky it will never come up and I can maintain Lewis’s modesty. Well, whatever modesty he has left.

“I was hoping we could keep him here until we figure things out.” I offer, but can already tell that was a bad plan by the look on Patrick’s face.  
“Keep him... he needs a doctor, Pete! I don’t know shit about meds or what to do with this!” He throws his arms up at the now half awake pill popper.  
“Pa-Patrick?” He mumbles.  
“He doesn’t even know where he is!” Patrick yells and looks back to me.

“Look, he’s got a very bad mindset right now, trust me. A hospital isn’t going to help that and I don’t want everyone around me to talk like their treading on a land mine after this. It fucking sucks!”  
“Well, I didn’t do this to you!” Patrick stops and stutters out some form of an apology, immediately knowing that wasn’t the right choice of words.  
“It’s fine, I get it, I just thought that out of everyone I knew that you’d be able to help with this.”

I suppose I can’t blame him. I’m a forty year old man with a sixteen year old twin trailing behind me as I carry my suicidal twenty-five year old self and now I’m looking to depend on a twenty-one year old kid who just woke up in the middle of the night to this train wreck. I can’t expect him to just magically form a plan as if he’s done this before. No one would know what to do, there weren’t exactly Time Travel 101 or Handling Idiotic Friends courses offered in high school. 

I wasn’t taught this shit and neither was Patrick, just like I was kicked to the curb when it came time to teaching myself taxes and how much to tip waiters. Was I just supposed to know this? Is this real adulthood because last I checked my parents never told me their amazing stories of accidentally traveling back in time and seeing their former selves. I mean who would really want to do that? And why tonight of all nights? Why not at the Fenway concert or some Video Music Awards? Something to show Lewis that it’s not all downhill from here.

“Pete?” Patrick asks and I quickly realize he means the one in the car.  
“Wait, why does he get to be Pete?” Lewis whines and I quickly shush him.  
“To Patrick he’s Pete, but we can call him... Kingston, how about that?”  
“Kingston! Why the fuck does he get that and I get Lewis!?”  
“That’s not important right now. Patrick can call him whatever since this doesn’t involve him, but we’ll call him Kingston to keep it less confusing.”  
“It’s the capital of Jamaica for fucks sake! I’m the one with dreads and-and,”

Patrick shakes his head at our bickering and continues to gently wake up King.  
“Hey, you alright?” He whispers as if he’s attempting to cheer up a sad toddler.  
“Patrick... no. I gotta- I gotta go.” King mumbles and makes a weak attempt at getting up, but Patrick sits him back down.  
“How about we just take a quick break. Maybe we could go up to my place and get you a drink or something?”  
“Yeah, yeah sure.” He nods off once more, but catches himself.

He looks up to me as I lean in over the window and furrows his brow.  
“Jesus?”  
“Similar hair, but no.” I smirk and tap Patrick on the shoulder to help me with getting him out of the car.

His feet stumble a bit, but we keep his arms up, sharing them with each of our shoulders. Lewis trails behind and Patrick hands him the keys to his room as we enter the actual lobby and get out of the garage. The elevator is lined with mirrors, which I’m not a particular fan of. I really don’t need them to see double of myself. I’ve already got Lewis balancing on the balls of his feet in front of me and King swinging his head to some silent beat as I grip his wrist over my neck.

Patrick doesn’t say a word and just keeps looking over to King and then back to the mirror. He’s probably checking to make sure he hasn’t gone crazy and that the two other Pete’s standing in the mirror beside him are really there. There isn’t even the awkward elevator music to keep us company, just the squeak of Lewis’s sneakers and soft humming from King. 

I jump when the doors finally open on the fourth floor and follow Lewis until Patrick tells him to stop. We get inside and set King down on the couch. He seems a little more awake now and I turn to see Patrick grabbing glasses out of the cabinet.

“You guys want anything?”  
“I’m good, but this guy definitely needs water.” I reply and sit down beside King.  
“You got any Pepsi, dude?” Lewis asks, courtesy thrown out of the window as expected.  
“Mr. Pibb.”  
“Sure.”

We settle with our drinks, Patrick in an armchair while Lewis joins King and I at the couch. It’s a little tight, but I’m guessing Lewis would start up another argument if he was told to sit on the floor. King just seems content staring at the blank tv and coughing every once in a while into his cup of water. A part of me regrets not having anything. After running for what felt like miles and then getting hit by a car you begin to work up a thirst, but I already feel like I’m bombarding on Patrick’s life enough as it is. 

“It’s really weird seeing young and old Pete.” Patrick claims as he looks between each of us.  
“I’m only forty.” I counter.  
“ _Forty!?_ ” Lewis barks and nearly spills his drink as he cranes his neck to see me.  
“Can you please not yell in my ear right now, kid.” King groans and massages his temples.  
“I’m not a _kid._ ”  
“Whatever, can someone please explain this. Patrick what the fuck is all of this? Some twisted intervention?” King looks to Patrick and tries to hide the fact that his hands are shaking enough to put ripples in his water.

“I wish,” He starts with a shake of his head. “So, it seems like things at least change when you come into contact with that car. Pete, the old Pete,” He stops when I give him a look of distaste. “ _older_ Pete, did you know the driver?”  
“No, I called an Uber.”

They all share a few confused glances and then I remember that I’m the only one here that would know what that is.  
“It’s like calling a taxi with your phone and you can rate the drivers and track how far they are from you. It’s nice, but I’m really wishing I had just driven myself.”  
“Did you at least talk to him? I know how you are in regular taxis with not talking much.”  
“No, I was actually on the phone with you when I first got in and it was really strange. I didn’t even realize we hadn’t spoken until he was already driving and I hung up. I tried to tell him where I was going, but he just nodded. I assumed he already knew from the app or something.”

“Wait, an app? What’s that like an appetizer?” Lewis snickers and looks back to me.  
“It’s a... thing on your phone. I can’t explain all the future shit to you right now. You’ll find out one day.” I shrug him off and look back to Patrick.  
“So, you just went along with this stranger in hopes he was taking you to the right place?” Patrick asks with a look of disbelief.  
“Yeah, that’s basically how Uber works.”  
“Just trusted him right outta the gate?”  
“Well, yeah... quit criticizing my decisions when it’s perfectly normal in my time.”

I cross my arms and lean back onto the couch in aggravation. My eyes trail over Lewis as he gets up and begins inspecting the place. Patrick doesn’t seem to notice as he looks to King like a parent who’s not sure whether he should punish his kid or not.

“Don’t think I forgot about you.” He directs sternly to the sulking man. “We’re going to talk about that, but right now we need to get rid of these two... wait where’s the other one?” His head spins as he looks behind himself to the kitchen and the open bedroom door. 

There’s a random strum of a guitar somewhere deep in the apartment and Patrick shoots to his feet.  
“That one! What’s his name?” He points to the hallway.  
“Lewis.” I smirk and put an arm around King to sit back and watch this kid really meet Patrick. The Patrick you see when you touch his most prized possessions: his instruments.

“Lewis!” He yells and storms off, clearly fed up with having three of us in his sacred temple of a home. The only place he could count on to remain exactly as he wants it and he has three of us to fuck everything up. Luckily one of us is too tired to care and I can now relate to this side of him. I couldn’t imagine having two other younger me’s running around my house. Well... Bronx and Saint and now Marvel... but that’s different. Lewis though, Lewis doesn’t care. At least the kids have a handle of basic house rules, but I can tell Lewis doesn’t give two shits about Patrick’s rules. He certainly hasn’t matured no matter how much he believes it.

I get up to follow him in order to watch this death match as King just remains on the couch, leaned back and head swarming with whatever horrid thoughts he can muster. Patrick turns the corner and follows the messy chords blaring out with me on his heels. He yells out Lewis’s name as he enters to which the kid turns and knocks over a stack of old vinyls with the neck of the guitar.

“Are you kidding me right now!?” Patrick yells and kneels to the small pile of albums.  
“What?” Lewis asks with drawn eyebrows as Patrick stands back up to only be an intimidating two inches taller.  
“You do not touch my guitars,” Patrick orders and snatches it out of Lewis’s hands. “Especially not _this_ guitar. This was from my brother and it is not to be touched!”

I put my hand over my mouth to hide my grin as Lewis prepares himself for a comeback.  
“What’s the point in having a guitar if you don’t even play it? Fucking dust was falling off it when I picked it up.”  
“I can play it, _you_ can’t.”  
“Why not? I know how to play bass, it’s not that different. Oh or is it a race thing or something?” Lewis fixes a loose dread falling over his eye and crosses his arms.  
“No! I don’t give a shit about that! I’ve spent like almost my entire adolescence stuck in a van with you and never thought of that.”  
“What? Wait are we...”

Lewis pauses and makes a dirty notion with his fingers between the two of them.  
“No! Jesus Christ no! We’re in a band, idiot.”

There’s another stretch of silence as Lewis’s eyes widen and his hands freeze in the air as he considers this new found information. A smile slowly plays at his lips as he looks Patrick over.

“No fucking way.” He laughs. “So, you’re like the guitarist?”  
“That and among other things.”  
“He’s the singer.” I announce and put my arm around Patrick who attempts to wiggle away.  
“Am I the bassist? What’s the band’s name? Oh who else is in it?” Lewis lists off with the speed of a rouge paparazzi camera.  
“Now you got him started.” I release Patrick with a sigh.

I’d just gotten him to kind of shut up and now he was back at it with the questions. I help Patrick with the vinyls and hide the clearly broken one in its case. He doesn’t need to see that, especially with it being Eddie Harris. A saxist he has told me about countless times and basically grew up with, so I can tell this is a very important album. One that might just get us thrown out if he sees, so I quickly slide the now two pieces into the case and add it to the stack.

Patrick continues to exhaustedly answer Lewis’s building questions before finally announcing that it was time for bed. King had already sprawled out on the couch, so I take the armchair and watch the squabble of Lewis being kicked off of Patrick’s bed. One that would be big enough for three people, but there’s no way he’s letting anyone on it after all that’s happened. I can tell the guy needs a rest. The only other person he might consider sleeping in there would be King, but he might throw up again at any time. I had already heard him gagging in the bathroom while Patrick was explaining the history of Fall Out Boy or at least up until 2005 that is. 

Lewis takes his spot on the floor by the window with a few loose pillows and a blanket. I place an extra quilt on King and sit back down. I might just have to join Lewis on the floor because trying to fall asleep while sitting might become a bit more challenging as time goes by. My head bobs back and all that running quickly catches up with me though. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all. 

I jump awake to Michael Jackson’s “Bad” blaring through the halls and notice the disregarded blankets on the floor with no Lewis or King in sight. I hear Patrick’s voice from his room and a few foot steps. His door opens and he looks to me before walking back down the hall toward the room that doubled as a small studio and storage space. King comes out after him looking like Hell hungover and sits at the counter.

I hear a yelp, most likely from Lewis as the music is suddenly cut off.  
“I didn’t touch the guitar!” Lewis yells.  
“Don’t touch anything!”  
“Not even the floor?” I can practically see the smug look crossing his face before another high scream. 

Patrick comes stomping back into the kitchen with Lewis stumbling behind him, collar twisted in Patrick’s fist. Lewis yells like he’d been trained to do with growing up with siblings and attempting to pass the blame to anyone that dared to touch him.  
“I was just-“  
“Nothing! You were just doing nothing and you will continue to do nothing for the rest of your time here.”  
“How long are we going to be staying here?” King speaks up, not drawing out or mumbling his words for once.

Patrick lets go of Lewis and takes a sip of what looks like tea with the string dangling over the side.  
“I’m going to be taking you to the doctor, something we should’ve done last night. These two can go look for that car while we’re gone.”  
“No doctors.” King replies rather matter-of-factly.  
“Yes doctors and you’re taking your phone to call me when you’re done.”  
“He really didn’t take enough, it was only four, he usually takes like two or three a day.” I point out and join them at the counter.  
“If I go to a doctor this is bound to go public. I made a mistake and I know that now.”  
“We already talked about it and you’re going. At least speak with your therapist if nothing else.” Patrick concludes with a sigh.

King gives in and Patrick hands him the BlackBerry that he pockets.  
“Why does he get the phone?” Lewis chirps.  
“Why is everything an argument?” Patrick snaps and I shake my head at Lewis to stop.  
“Alright, damn, so grumpy.” He mutters and sulks away to dig in the fridge.

The morning continues with no further incident other than Lewis spilling milk onto King’s pants. I can see right through King’s little act of “learning from his mistakes”. He hasn’t learned shit and I’m sure he’s got a lot still going on in his head. He won’t truly learn from this for a couple more years when Bronx is born. That’s when it will really sink in what a mistake this was because if it had worked he would have never been born. Of course he’ll regret this and know it was a bad decision, but until he becomes an actual father it will only be in spirit. Bronx is what makes the mistake more physical. 

As much as I hate to admit it, he does need his therapist right now. He still looks a little out there with his glazed over eyes staring at the wall. All those therapy sessions and pep talks from friends became rather annoying, but at least I learned that people cared. I almost didn’t want them to care. I wanted my head to be right when it said the world would be better without Pete Wentz. I wanted a pause button to silence everything just for a few minutes and I instead received hundreds of tabloid articles and interviews wanting to know more about the incident.

It did the complete opposite of quieting down the media. It shaped Fall Out Boy in a way and I’m not sure whether I regret that aspect of it or not. Certainly got the band some more attention, problem is it mainly centered around me. The one person I didn’t want to be pushed into the spotlight. Patrick should be the one interviewed or Joe, I mean he did start the band after all. Andy would’ve been a better candidate to handle the lime light than me. I crack under that weight and he knows how to keep his head screwed on tight through all the noise. King might have it a little easier, but there will still be stories. Something will break, it always does.

“Alright, so I don’t have an extra car.” Patrick holds the door open for us as we exit his apartment. “So, you guys will all ride with me when we drop King off at his therapist’s office. You called her right?”  
“Yeah, she booked me for a session at twelve which is in like thirty minutes.” King replies with a cough.  
“Good, once he’s dropped off we’ll go around and search for the car. It’ll be faster than you guys just walking.”  
“Thanks dad.” Lewis mutters to which Patrick swipes at the back of his head.  
“Shut the fuck up you little rat.” Patrick glares.

We pile into Patrick’s car, Lewis surprisingly not arguing at me getting in the front instead of him. He seems too distracted by looking at the car’s interior to really care. King gets in the back with him and gives the address before we leave.

“Turn left.” Patrick’s GPS directs and Lewis jumps behind me.  
“The fuck was that?” He leans in to get a closer look at the boxy little screen.  
“It’s a GPS, tells you where you’re going.” Patrick informs him and obeys the little voice.  
“That’s fucking incredible... and you can afford that?”  
“Yeah, a lot of people have them.”  
“You think that’s impressive, just wait until 2019. We’ve got phones thinner than that and all of them have a GPS in them. It talks to you too, answers whatever questions you have so I don’t have to.” I add with a smirk which of course brings on an onslaught of questions, but this time from everyone instead of just Lewis. 

King even adds in a few as we pull into the parking lot of the recognizable office. I could probably map out those halls in my head just from being down here so many times. I can tell he’s just stalling the inevitable boot with his questions, but Patrick promptly opens his door mid sentence and guides him toward the front. Neither of them appear happy in doing this, but it must be done.

I’m left wondering what Patrick must be thinking through all of this. Not just with having his best friend’s past and future self hanging around, but through the entire incident. I don’t want to count it as a suicide attempt because the goal was never to die. I just wanted a break from the nonstop publicity stunts of doing simple tasks. As if going out to Starbucks was some whole ordeal. Being questioned over relationships and rumors when I just wanted to shop for some groceries. 

It was too much and I’m definitely more comfortable with it now, but King certainly isn’t. This is not his ball game and I completely understand why. He’s just not used to all of it yet. It takes time and an incredible amount of patience. There will always be hiccups, but as long as I can stay grounded I’ll be okay. _We’ll_ be okay.

“Wait! Pete is that it?” Lewis sits up and points toward a pristine black car sitting in the front row.  
“Holy shit, yeah! Come on.” I get out and sprint toward the car, Patrick and King stopping beside it to see why they heard our doors shut. 

I shout at them to look into the tinted windows to see if the driver is there, but Patrick just replies with a confused look to King as if he can translate my Wentzian. We catch up to them, the car still sitting there unmoved. I half expected it to violently reverse and barrel over us again, but it still just sits there. I check the doors while Lewis knocks on the driver’s window despite not being able to see whether there’s an actual driver or not.

“I’ll ask if the driver’s inside.” Patrick announces before disappearing through the glass doors.  
“This door’s unlocked!” King yells before suddenly being thrown inside.  
“What the fuck?” Lewis runs around the car to see and I join him before feeling a fist around my collar pulling me inside. 

My eyes are closed as the twisting limbs around me kick and claw at any possible traction. I catch a glimpse at a darkened window before a sneaker kicks at my head and I can’t help but wince at the thumping pain in my ear. There’s too much weight on me to fully get up, but I can hear the car’s motor start up with the twist of a keychain. 

I feel the car backing up and I start pushing the legs over my head. By the time I’m able to get them off, the car is suddenly dark as if I was still under Lewis and King. I look to the driver’s seat and hear its door close with a thud. The car is parked in front of a white wall with the night sky doing little to illuminate it. 

I attempt to jump up, but King is still struggling to get off of my back. I roll out of the car with Lewis following not far behind. I get to my feet and help King out before looking around.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” I look down the side of the building and see three large tour buses idly sitting in a row with multiple vans parked nearby.  
“What? Where are we?” Lewis asks as he gets up and leans on King.  
“That’s a Fall Out Boy bus, I know it. We used it not that long ago.”  
“Like how long ago?” King looks to me.  
“I’m not sure-“  
“Here I’ll just ask someone, nobody will really recognize me out of us.” Lewis runs off before I can stop him and ignores my calls.

I really don’t want to drag anyone else into this again. I wonder what Patrick did after we left. He went inside, but by the time he got back I’m sure we were gone. I don’t know how we left or what it looked like, but to him we must have just disappeared... but Fall Out Boy is apparently still a band here. Did they continue on without me or is this shit all fake?

I look around the car and of course the driver is nowhere in sight. I curse and join King in watching Lewis jog over to the buses. There’s a few scattered crew members that disappear into the vans and buses farther down the lot. He stops at the second bus and King and I begin covertly walking over to see who it is he’s debating on asking. We crouch behind a van and look over to the gangly boy tapping on someone’s shoulder. 

His hair is short and blonde... fuck. Seriously Lewis? Out of everyone to ask, you find _him_? King hears me sigh and sends a questioning look. The man clad in a ripped, black Iron Maiden tank top with black jeans to match turns to the kid. I lightly beat my head on the van in aggravation.

“Is that-“ King whispers.  
“Yep.” I reply without even looking up.  
“Shit.”  
“Please tell me they’re not-“  
“They’re coming over here.”  
“Goddamnit.” 

I hear the approaching footsteps and King stepping behind me before deciding to finally get up. Of course my suspicions were correct and it wasn’t just some cruel trick of the mind as I look up to see myself mirrored before me. Only differences being the hair, clothes, and about a ten pound drop. 

“Holy shit...” the blonde mutters.  
“So, who’s he gonna be? Wentz or Third?” Lewis asks with a smug arch of his eyebrow.  
“Out of everyone you could’ve asked.” King adds dryly as if he could read my mind.  
“I’m thinking Blondie, seems like it fits and I’ve always wanted to go blonde.” Lewis ignores his comment and the fact that we are still all stuck in the wrong year. 

Blondie continues staring at each of us with raised eyebrows and wordless lips. I simply shake my head and turn to the black car. I’m met with an empty parking spot yet again and sit down at the van’s tire.

“I’m done,” I rest my head in my hands. “I can’t do this anymore. The car, you guys, I can’t keep doing this. I just wanna go fuckin’ home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve finally got Patrick in on this circus and yet another Pete, soon we’ll have an army. Thanks for reading so far and comments and kudos are always welcomed and appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

My hands crawl up to my hair and I lightly tug at it exhaustedly. I can feel their eyes trailing over me as I sink into the pavement.

“Well, you can’t give up now. What, are we all just supposed to live here in... what year is it?” King asks and I can feel him kneel beside me without even having to touch me.  
“Um... it’s-its 2014.” Blondie stutters out.  
“Woah really?” Lewis chirps and I look up to see his grinning look of admiration directed to Blondie. “I’m from ‘95.”  
“Oh... cool.” Blondie mutters and scratches the back of his neck. “So, like, how is this possible exactly?”

I feel like I might just slam my head against the van with hearing that question again, but then it clicks. 

“Wait, you don’t know?” I look up to him.  
“Know what? How you’re here? No.”  
“So, you don’t remember traveling around time? Like, you should be able to remember doing this as these two.” I throw my thumbs to Lewis and King who finally understand what I’m getting at.  
“No I don’t remember, this is all pretty fucking weird.”  
“Yeah! And I don’t remember being Lewis and doing all of this!” King pipes up with the most excitement I’ve seen him show this entire time.

“And, I certainly don’t remember being any of you and going through all this shit, so at least we know this doesn’t like... effect us?” I reason and try to focus on my racing thoughts.  
“Is this all fake or something?” Lewis asks and furrows his brow.  
“I don’t think it’s fake, I think it’s just fixable in some way. This ends at some point and erases our memory of it ever happening.” King nods while Blondie just keeps looking to each of us and scratches his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, but does anyone care to explain any of this?” Blondie waves his hands and I get up to his level.  
“Why don’t we take a walk.” I offer and put an arm around his shoulder with King and Lewis trailing behind. 

I explain everything that’s happened so far and our current predicament as he silently nods along. I lead him away from the tour buses and hope that no stray fans appear from the shadows. He informs me that they just finished a show and that we’re in Phoenix as I reassure him over and over that the pre-show cookie he had wasn’t laced with anything. This is in fact real and not just some bad trip no matter how much I want to believe it. 

I stop when we reach a chain link fence blocking our path, but it’s deserted enough to have a little “meeting” at. We need a better plan and a new angle if we’re going to get out of here.

“Alright, this whole car chase thing isn’t working.” I tell them once we’re all standing in a loose circle.  
“It’s doing something.” King replies.  
“Yeah and that something keeps adding more of us. We don’t need another one, no offense.” I direct to Blondie who just shakes his head with a shrug.  
“Well I mean, what else can we do? That car is the only thing that seems to change anything.” Lewis offers with a scowl.

“When we went to our therapist, the car was already there.” I offer up, recalling the details.  
“Oh yeah! You guys almost walked right past it.” He happily adds as if his validation makes it official.  
“Anyway, it was already there. Almost like it was expecting us. That driver knows where we’re going, he _wants_ us to run into him.”  
“It doesn’t matter how good of a driver you are,” King starts and swipes at his bangs. “cars can’t just disappear like that.”  
“Maybe it’s a ghost car like Christine!” Lewis buds in again and I wave him off.

King does make a good point though. This can’t just be some driver and I don’t want to use the words “magic” or like Lewis said with “ghost”, but I don’t know what else to call it. How can a car just disappear in a matter of seconds?

“How about the fact that it apparently time traveled.” Blondie speaks up for the first time since we reached the fence.  
“Yeah, this isn’t just some oddly silent and fast car. It fucking traveled in time.” I back up his statement and nod. “But... only into the past.”  
“Yeah, so?” Lewis asks after a few seconds of silence as each of us considers this aspect.

“What can we do to get to the future?” I look to the ground in thought.  
“Well, technically this is the future for me and Lewis.” King says as if I didn’t realize that.  
“Well, with me being the one who somehow started this it would seem like that’s where we need to get back to.”  
“But what happens if we’re all there too?”  
“You just do the same thing that got us there and go to your time.”

They all nod in silent agreement before Lewis decides to add his two cents.  
“What if we just avoided the car.” He shrugs.  
“Don’t be an idiot-“ King starts, but I cut his insult off.  
“No, no that might work. Well it’s at least something _different_. Maybe it’ll fuck with the driver. We could get some payback.”  
“And what do you expect us to do until he finally gets it? I mean, we don’t even know if he’s around here.” King points out.  
“I bet he can hear us.” Lewis mutters and we all fall silent to timidly look around.

We decide that staying outside is the best way to possibly run into the car. The only problem with that is by now we’re all pretty famous and run the risk of being recognized. Things were so much easier in Lewis’s time. 

Blondie goes back to the bus and returns with several layers of clothing and hats to hide under. We’ll be a strange looking group that might attract more attention than wanted, but it’s better than more conspiracies about time travel. I simply put on a black beanie and pull my hood up while King has to do a little more work with hiding his recognizable and now out of style hair. I help him tie it up in a little bun to hide under a baseball cap. Lewis pulls on a jacket to block out the chilly night air from the goosebumps spreading across his arms and pulls his black hood over his dreads as best as he can. Blondie hands King and I sunglasses while Lewis takes a scarf to cover half of his face. 

“Middle of April and you guys look like you’re dressed for a blizzard.” Blondie chuckles and steps back to admire his work.  
“Yeah well, identity theft isn’t exactly a style choice now is it?” I reply and pull at the strings on my hood to tighten it. “Come on guys, Blondie why don’t you stay here. It’s better that you don’t get taken somewhere with us like these morons.”  
“We’re all the same person.” King pats my shoulder and begins to walk away.

We nod back to Blondie who goes off to his tour bus with a shake of his head and we walk off to find an exit. We finally get out after a few twists and turns and are only stopped by one security guard who graciously guides us out. 

I would have thought that seeing the car would be tougher in this time with cars being much more modern, but there it is right outside the arena. It sits idly by the curb with rushing cars hurrying to leave swerving around it. I look to King and Lewis and nod to keep walking and we continue down the side walk. We sit at a nearby bus stop and are greeted by the same car instead. 

I just look to a poster taped to the bus sign to distract my eyes from the imposing vehicle. With no bus seeming to come anytime soon we decide to get up and quickly walk away, making sure to stay as close to the storefronts as possible. I hear tires screech and look back to see the car aggressively turning around and I grab Lewis by the shoulder to start running. 

We brake for an alleyway and make it to the next street, but I skid to the floor when I stop as the car is suddenly braking in front of the opening. I grab King by his shirt sleeve and tug him behind the dumpster with Lewis behind me hugging my back. I peer out and quickly hide my head again as the car sits there blocking our path.

“What the fuck do we do?” King whispers into my ear.  
“Let’s try going back, it obviously knows we’re here.” I reply and look back to where we came from only a few seconds ago.  
“Won’t it just follow us again?”

I sit on this question and look back up to the taunting vehicle. It’s just a car... what’s the worse it can do from this angle? It can’t run us over, but the driver could easily lower the window and shoot us if there’s a gun in there. That’s just a risk we need to take, my life is already fucked right now. Might as well mix it up a bit more. 

“Let’s go up to it.” I offer.  
“What? Isn’t that the exact opposite of the plan?” Lewis nearly shouts with his obvious inability to control his volume.  
“We won’t try to open the doors, let’s just play it by ear and see what happens. If it goes south, we bail.”

We finally start walking toward the car with only minimal protest from Lewis who trails behind us, making sure to keep both myself and King in front of him as barriers. I stop us halfway and squint at the window, still not being able to clearly make out what’s inside. 

“What if _we_ drove?” King whispers and I lightly nod to acknowledge this genius question.  
“Lewis, you stay here... King we’re going to slide over the hood and try to get into the driver’s seat. Lewis I need you to hop in the back once we’re in.” I whisper over my shoulder before tapping King’s arm to ready him. 

I bolt and grab the hood before attempting to slide over it which results in a rather awkward trip down the side of it, but I make it to the door all the same. King joins me and makes it over with a little more ease and I swing open the door. 

I feel cold hands around my arms despite not seeing anything aside from shadows crawling up my wrists. I pull my body back and King helps tug the strange darkness out of the car with me. My fingers go numb and I can feel whatever this shit is running through my veins as I wrestle with it. I hear Lewis yell something, but I’m already on the ground with this thing.

Suddenly it’s solid and as I look down I jump to my feet when I see Patrick below me. He smirks and goes to get up, but King kicks him straight in the nose. There’s those soccer scholarships coming in handy for once. Patrick’s head snaps back and twists into a shadow once more before he turns with a head of black hair and a Cheshire grin. Eyeliner smudged below his eyes with tired bags tracing them and stiff bangs falling over his eyelashes like an eery curtain.

He’s not Patrick anymore, he’s fucking me. He’s _King_ , only way more sinister looking as his nearly black eyes wave over King with that wicked smile. He gets up and tackles him immediately with a laugh even the Joker couldn’t perfect. I grab him by the sides as he lashes out on King with stray punches and insults. I can’t understand him, but King seems to as he calls back.

“No! You’re fucking wrong! Stop!” King shouts and guards his face from any further fists as I fight to push this demonic little bastard off.

I finally manage to throw him to the ground and away from King who pushes himself up against the car tire. I kick the darker Pete in the ribs, but he disappears before my foot can connect. I hear his twisted laugh before I’m suddenly thrown against the car with frigid hands clasped around my throat. He appears once again and this time with a long smile painted across his face. 

Goddamnit is he straight out of America’s Suitehearts or something? At first his voice is low and sounds like he must be speaking in tongues until I look into his eyes and it’s like a switch is flipped in my brain. His mouth doesn’t even match what’s being translated with what feels like dozens of different voices whispering into my ears all at once.

Almost as if every terrible thought I’ve ever had or insults I’ve received through the years are running through my head like a broken radio transmission. There’s a few of them that sound like Patrick, then there’s Chris, Joe, Ashley, and even Andy a few times. I can only make out little snippets as his dark eyes pierce through mine. 

“Spoiled little shit”  
“They’re right”  
“...Hate you”  
“Asshole”  
“ _Should die..._ ”

My thoughts swarm through my head so fast they risk cracking my skull to spill out for the world. Each one bringing a horrid memory in tow. Reading a magazine article about the divorce, old friends shouting through the phone about selling out, my own mother arguing with me about getting caught wasted in an alleyway outside of some club. Exes screaming in my ear about cheating, paparazzi blurting out questions only to twist the answers later on, Patrick punching me in the face over some sly comment on a shitty lyric. 

I scream out in protest to stop the growing voices before I hear a sudden crash. I drop to the ground and the voices are cut off instantly. My cheek digs into the pavement and everything seems to slow down after the whirl of thoughts are finally silenced. My eyes flick up to see a flash of an arm and something rock-like hitting the street. The Sandman Pete is back on the ground with Lewis and King looming over him.

My vision focuses more as I make a feeble attempt to get up. Lewis is breathing heavily and doesn’t seem to notice me, but King quickly steps over to help me up. I lean back on the car just as the shadowed figure begins to stir and I hear a car door open. 

Before I can even begin to understand what’s happening, I’m in the passenger seat with Lewis closing me in to jump in the back. King grips the steering wheel and punches the gas pedal. I look to the dash and see something that’s different from any other car I’ve ever driven or encountered. There aren’t a million buttons and switches as I would’ve expected, just one little knob with a date over it.

“Did you guys see me? I totally decked him with that brick!” Lewis practically bounces in his seat in announcing this.  
“Yeah after he fucking, like, possessed me. He did some weird hypnotizing shit.” King gestures to his eyes dramatically.  
“Yeah, he did the same thing to me... it was really weird. Did-did he say things to you? Like did you hear other people’s voices?”  
“Yeah! That happened to you too?”

I nod and focus back on the strange dial, but I’m snapped away when I feel Lewis’s hand on my shoulder.

“Woah, this car’s nice.” Lewis says in amazement.  
“A lot of cars look like this honestly, at least in my time. This thing’s different though.” I point to the black dial and look up to King as if to ask permission to touch it.

He shrugs in return and I twist it slowly as the windows begin to seemingly glow. Lewis curses under his breath in excitement as the lights fly by in cascading colors, looking as if the car is going hundreds of miles an hour. It sounds as if a record is spinning and slowly speeding up with each turn as the music switches through the years from one popular song to the next. I hear a snippet of The Weekend mixed through Adele and Wiz Khalifa. The numbers read 2015 before quickly flipping to 2016 with the days becoming blurred as the numbers switch too fast to read. Everything outside seems to morph together and I stop the dial at August 27, 2017.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this got a little confusing with who was talking, there was a lot of it in this chapter with their planning. I tried to keep it clear, but when you’ve got four of the same person it’s bound to mix up a little. Still hope you’re all enjoying it though and thanks for all the comments.


	5. Chapter 5

Everything is darker with the approaching sunset as we role up to a stop sign, the outside world seeming to come into focus more. Up ahead I can see a certain house with a limo parked outside. I tell King to slow down as we approach it and the front door opens.

“The fuck is that?” Lewis points to the tall man clad in gray fur and holding the head of a familiar mascot. Joe appears following him in a black collared shirt with a laugh to join him. Andy is already leaning on the limo and talking to Patrick with me walking behind Joe. The man in the white llama suit barely has it on as he makes his way down the driveway, nearly tripping on the loose suit. There’s an entire group of people out here, ready to see us off before we go.

“Is that another one of us?” King follows my gaze outside.  
“Yeah, right before the VMAs. The whole llama thing is part of the album.” I explain and King agrees with Lewis that they’re awesome.  
“Of course they’re part of it.” King laughs. “Now, I’m guessing we don’t want to add another one of us in here, so who wants to go first?”  
“What?” Lewis asks after finally being torn away from the window.  
“What was the date when you left?” King parks the car and looks back to him.  
“Ugh... July 8th-no 9th! 1995.”

“Are you sure?” I look back like some parent on the verge of scolding their son.  
“Yeah, I know cause we’d just had the 4th of July and got back from Vermont the day before.”   
“Alright,” I begin spinning the dial backward as the car starts up again. “Let’s see what turning it backwards does.”

The green numbers begin to quickly flip as the days roll back steadily and soon months become years in a matter of seconds. By the time I fully blink twice we’ve already traveled back two decades and I begin to slow down as it finally ticks onto 1995. I can hear the warped record belting out Whitney Houston who’s scream transforms to Michael Jackson with Mariah Carey following suit. The car begins to slow down before I can make out any definite songs as we roll up on the date. 

King parks the car and gazes up to the house as I had done the first time. It still looks just as it had before only the soccer ball is sitting on the lawn expectantly instead of being kicked across the street. Lewis taps on my seat and I look back.

“Well, dad, it’s been fun.” He leans in with a smirk.  
“Oh fuck you.” I reply and share a smirk with King.  
“But seriously, this was pretty fuckin’ weird and... I don’t know if I’ll remember it, but I really hope I do.”  
“Aww, I’m touched.” King says, his words neatly wrapped in sarcasm.   
“You guys are like my best friends for sure.” Lewis happily nods as he opens his door.  
“Well, that’s just sad.” King mutters before adding. “See you... everyday little man.” 

Lewis closes his door and I lower my window for one last word.   
“I’m guessing this is the time where we ride off into the sunset like a couple of time traveling badasses.” I look up to Lewis with a grin. “See you later, Marty.”  
“Alright, Doc.” He gives a light wave as if the prospect of waving is just a little too lame despite the cheesy line.

King starts up the car and I bring the window back up before turning the dial. I look back into the mirror as Lewis begins to blur until he’s nothing more than a memory laced in a potent coconut cologne and Guns N’ Roses lyrics as the years roll by once again. 

“We going to my time of your’s?” I ask as we approach 2005.  
“Mine, I wouldn’t know what to do with this thing if I was left with it.”  
“Yeah cause I’ll know.” I reply sharply, but slow down once I reach the right year. “What’s the date?”   
“February... 13th I’m pretty sure.” He replies and continues starring at the blurred lines of a street that slowly solidifies. 

The car rolls over the speed bumps as we approach the same dark and eery parking lot. The only real color coming from the bold yellow lettering of the Best Buy. King parks the car beside his own sitting lonesomely with the door swung open. 

“Surprised no one stole it.” King forces a laugh before sighing.  
“It might not seem like it... but it gets better. I know we don’t normally trust the whole ‘trust me I know how you feel’ line, but under these circumstances,” I brake as we both let out an actually genuine chuckle at that. “I _definitely_ know how you feel.”  
“I’m really glad all of this happened. It just felt like I was showing everyone who I thought Pete Wentz was, but didn’t have my own self to turn to... I don’t know, I guess it doesn’t make much sense but-“  
“No, I get it. Just stick it out a few more years and you’ll see. You will truly see why you’re here.”

King nods and leans in for a pretty awkward hug as we stretch over the armrest, but it’s not everyday that you get to legitimately hug yourself. It’s oddly surreal, but I try not to think about it as he lets out a more comfortable sigh. He’s just a confused kid right now, but he’ll learn. He just needs to find his footing in life and then he can truly enjoy it. We release and he opens his door before pausing to look at me.

“Thanks, seriously.” His voice shakes.  
“You’re welcome and thank you, you kicked some serious ass back there.”   
“Do I get a cheesy movie line too?” He grins, despite being in the dark he somehow sheds light on it instead of joining it.  
“Umm... hasta la vista, baby?” I break into a laugh before I can even get the last word out.  
“Seriously? _That’s_ my big line?”  
“Yep, take it or leave it.”  
“Fine, you’re lucky I like those movies.”  
“Oh you love those movies, don’t lie.”

He shakes his head and steps out of the car as I climb over the armrest. I’m afraid that if I step outside the car might disappear again, even without that shady driver, I’m not taking the risk. 

He waves with one last goodbye before closing the door. It’s strange, but I feel like I’m really going to miss those guys. I’m not sure if that’s some bizarre version of narcissism or vanity, but we’ve been through a lot. Well technically we’ve been through _everything_ together, but these last few days have been completely hectic. 

This was beyond scheduling tours, pressing questions in interviews, or juggling band practice and being and actual present father. I had to deal with an unpredictable teenager, a dazed twenty six year old on the brink of death, a rightfully annoyed and flustered Patrick, and a brief meeting with a very confused blonde bassist. Oh and let’s not forget the dark shapeshifter that nearly choked me out and sent a thousand screams beating down my eardrums. What a fantastic way to spend two of the few days I’ve got off, but luckily if I can drive this car right I’ll be back without any time passing.

The first thing I plan on doing when I get back is collapsing on my bed, but I’ve still got to deal with getting rid off this hell box. I’d rather not add arson and grand theft to my collection of crimes, but I’m not sure what else I can do to ensure no one else gets a hold of it. 

I twist the key and check the dial as I put it into drive. I get onto the main road before turning the years forward as the music starts up again. Coldplay swings into Katy Perry with a bit of what I believe to be Usher in the background with the growing numbers. Bruno Mars thumps through Eminem when I reach double digits and I even catch a hint of Fall Out Boy when I see 2013 come across the screen. 

I get a little lost in the colors streaming across the windows as I look up with the same wonder as a kid going through a car wash for the first time would show. They mix with the same emotion as the songs that produce one of the longest but best remixes of the various decades. This is the type of choreography I can only dream of for a concert. No amount of stage lights or risers could create this effect and I’ve got a private front row seat to a sold out show. 

I can tell I must be getting close without even looking at the screen as the songs morph into Ed Sheeren and Selena Gomez with Cardi B and Drake to speed things up a bit. I slow my hand as I see the numbers 2017 and prepare for the inevitable finale to my personal concert. Once I read 2019 I pay more attention to the days and months with the focus of a seamstress. 

I reach September 25th 2019 and stop as the colors slowly solidify into distant street lights up ahead and the end of a tunnel bathed in yellow. I catch a glimpse of the familiar white tiles before they’re cut off and I’m heading toward a crowded intersection. It’s once again night time with the clock reading 7:47 pm, only a minute of a difference from before. 

Fuck I promised I’d meet everyone at Patrick’s house, but I’m utterly exhausted. I check my phone which is still dead and shake my head. I have no way of telling them I don’t want to go and I don’t need them thinking I got into some car crash on the way. 

_Trust me guys, it was much worse._

I make a few turns to get back onto the route of Patrick’s house over in Studio City. Fucker took me to West Hollywood which is luckily not too far, but still confusing as hell if you don’t know the area. Which for a few minutes I was a little lost on this side street, but I know where I’m going now.

I can already see the top of Patrick’s house as I round the last corner. I’m really hoping nobody asks about the car, but I’ll run through a few lies and pick out the best one before anyone can even catch sight of it. I knock on the door and I’m greeted by Elisa with a sleeping toddler on her shoulder.

“Jesus, Pete, you look like hell.” She whispers and steps aside to let me in.  
“Why thank you.” I reply with a smile and look to the living room where I can hear a few voices going back and forth.   
“They’re in there, I need to get this one to bed and then I’ll be out.”

I simply nod and make my way back there.  
“And I’m just saying that there’s no way that could happen.” Patrick throws out with the seriousness of a scolding principle.  
“The logistics don’t matter! It’s just a what-if scenario.” Joe counters with flailing arms.  
“I get that, but I’m saying there’s no way fucking _Batman_ could beat Donetello.”  
“Look, I’ll ask him, Pete do you think Batman could kick Donnie’s ass in a fight?”

Joe looks up to me and I love how serious Patrick gets in these arguments so I quickly give Joe some satisfaction with my reply.

“Oh all day.” I sit in an armchair across from Joe.  
“That’s fucking ridiculous!” Patrick sits up from the couch between Joe and I.  
“I mean it’s a fact is what it is.” I throw an encouraging look to Joe who knows exactly what game we’re playing.

This is the “let’s see how far we can push Patrick with some mundane shit” game and it’s been our favorite since before Fall Out Boy even existed. Patrick has actually acknowledged this game, but falls into it nearly every time without thinking. 

God did I miss this back and forth bickering. I mean yeah, Lewis and King definitely offered this type of humor, but I could pretty much tell what was going to be said with us being the same person and all. This is the type of hospitality I signed up for with these guys and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“No, look, he already tried to claim that Kanye has influenced more people than Prince and I like Kanye and all, but I call bullshit on that.” Patrick looks to me for support and I just brake under his stare and begin laughing.  
“It’s true!” Joe answers for me with a smile tickling his lips.  
“No! We had this argument five years ago. I fucking remember and then we had it three years ago before that!”  
“How the fuck do you remember this?”

Even Patrick cracks up at that and takes a sip of his drink before looking back and forth between Joe and I.  
“Wait are you guys... are doing that fucking thing again?”  
“What thing?” Joe asks innocently and leans back in his chair.  
“That-that fucking game! You’re doing it again aren’t you?”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I chuckle and let myself slide back into reality.

I look up as Andy enters behind me with a glass of water.  
“Oh, Pete’s finally here.” He smiles and Patrick looks back up to me.  
“Yeah he finally decided to join us.”  
“Alright, alright, so I’m a little late. Traffic was uh, bad. You know how it is.”  
“You’re such a terrible liar.” Patrick smirks which sends Joe off.

“I mean, this is the same guy that showed up late in the middle of an interview because of ‘traffic’.” Joe points out with a finger waving to me.  
“It _was_ traffic! I knew you’d bring that up, you always do.”  
“Because it’s ridiculous, the poor lady. I mean, Patrick was in the middle of explaining Winona or like America’s Suitehearts or something and you just barged in and sat down behind him like it was all good.”

Even Andy laughs at the memory and I can’t help it either. We compose ourselves as Patrick looks back to Elisa coming in behind him.

“Did you tell them yet?” She puts a hand on his shoulder and looks to him.  
“No, they haven’t given me the chance.”  
“Well then say it, I’ve been here for like half an hour.” Joe replies with a loose grin.  
“Well I wanted everyone to be here and,”  
“Alright we get it, I was late, I’m sorry. That was on me, now what is so important it couldn’t just be texted?” I look up to Patrick and Elisa.

“Well, we’ve been having those meetings and everything and they finally got back to me. We officially have the album for next year set up.”  
“You say that likes it’s not big.” Joe stands up in excitement.  
“That’s fucking awesome.” Andy adds from his seat.  
“And I know you and Andy have the Damned Things, we can work on scheduling around that, but we’ve also been promised a tour.”

Patrick smiles and stands up to let Joe hug him. I do the same once they’re done and laugh at Joe’s enthusiasm. I’m pretty sure he’s had a little bit to drink which is what brings out a majority of his excitement, but I can tell he is genuinely happy with this news. 

“You know everything still has to be tweaked, but we’ve got three songs ready.”  
“Good, I’m glad to have that weight lifted.” I smile and take a step back.

As I stand there and take in the presence a small part of Lewis and King slowly fades. Blondie and Sandman, although our time was short, they too begin to blur. Elisa hands me a drink and I laugh at another joke as the memories are slowly downed with the beer. 

Once it starts to get pretty late I make a move to join Joe in leaving. Andy had already gone a while ago since he usually doesn’t stay too late most nights. Joe is a little tipsy, but I’m pretty good and guide him to the front porch.

“How did you guys get here?” Patrick asks from the doorway.  
“Uber.” Joe replies and looks to me.  
“Oh I,” My eyes trail over the empty spot where I thought I’d left my car. “I don’t know... I guess the same.” I laugh and look back to Patrick.  
“Alright, well I’ll just drive you guys. I don’t trust _Pete_ being the actual somewhat sober one.”  
“Oh come on, I’m fine.”

Despite my protests, Patrick takes me by the shoulder and gets me to his car. Joe takes the back seat and starts up with some story once again. His voice fades a bit as I look back to Patrick turning the key. I can’t believe how long I’ve known these guys. Through all the years, albums, and haircuts, we’re still here. All of us. 

Maybe it’s just the alcohol itching at my brain, but it really gets me thinking about this kind of thing. We’ve been the same since the beginning and that’s one thing I can honestly say I’m proud of with this band. I do sometimes look back at the past longingly, but I wouldn’t want to go back to any of it. The present is much more interesting, much more unpredictable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we’re finally coming to a close with this one. I’m bouncing around the idea of making this part of a series, but I’m not sure. If any of you guys want to see that let me know because I did genuinely enjoy writing this.   
> But either way, this is my first completely finished fic and I’m glad you guys stuck with it to the end. Thanks for reading, maybe you’ll accidentally come across another one of my stories in the future.


End file.
